~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Written By: Justin CaseEdited By: Ed~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~20026220Disclaimer: The chapter you are
about to read is fiction. It was created in the mind of the author, and
any similarities to real life are purely coincidental. This material contains
sexually graphic language and is intended for adults. The story is about
young gay love. If this type of subject matter offends you, you are invited
to stop viewing it now. The writer, his editor, and publisher accept no
responsibility for the actions of the reader. Persons viewing this tale
must do so legally; in accordance to the laws that govern them. This material
is the property of the writer, and is protected under the copyright laws
of the United States of America. No copies may be reproduced in any fashion
without the permission of the publisher.ãJCPCo2002~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SoapBox:âHow
you all doing? Good I hope. Me, I'm the same, no worse for my wear. I want
to share something with you all, something that I regard as personal. I
know many of you write me and tell me how much you like my stories, but
to be quite honest, the voices in my head from years gone by are often
too loud, and I feel tremendously insecure about my work here. As I click
on my mouse to send my stories to Nifty or post them on my own site, the
screams and shouts that tell me `I'm wasting my time' overwhelm me.

Years of physical and verbal abuse by my stepfather
cling to me, and haunt at me. These feelings of inadequacy are hard to
let go, so I write. I write in an effort to cleanse myself of the ghost-like
memories, turning them into something I can understand. The current chastises
and tongue-lashings tell me I spend too much time on the computer, and
ask `for what?'

`He'll never love you. What are you, sick,
some kind of pervert?' Bright lights flashed in his mind, as the voices
circled around like vultures in a desert sky. It was all too real, all
too familiar, he felt a throbbing pain throughout his body, he tried to
call out to the demons, but no sound was uttered.

Visions of Jim danced around with the large
ugly birds of prey. The comforting soft brown eyes of his best friend pierced
through him. `That pain, that deep pain, where is it coming from?' his
own voice called out in his dreamlike state; he wondered where he was.
He tried to scream, but the constant bursts of light blinded him, and his
mouth wouldn't open. The pain he felt wracked through his body, it was
unbearable, blackness and emptiness took their hold, he fell into a deep
state of unconsciousness.

"Is he going to be alright?" Matt asked the
middle-aged man in the baggy turquoise colored pants and shirt.

"He's lost a lot of blood, the horn ripped
through his spleen, we had to remove it. The next twenty four hours are
critical, we'll know better in the morning."

Doctor Anderson was the name on the identification
tag worn on the left breast of the loose fitting surgeon's garment. He
was about fifty years old, and Chief of Surgeons at Massena Memorial Hospital.
Donald, as he was affectionately called by most that knew him, was a warm
and gentle man. One of the finest general surgeons in St. Lawrence Valley,
and respected member of the community, he knew Matt from the Chamber of
Commerce.

Matt paced the cold tiled floor; he couldn't
shake his fears. Fears for young Randy's health, and fears his farm insurance
would be canceled. `Why had he left Charlie out overnight?' he kept asking
himself.

Charlie was the almost two thousand pound Jersey
bull that Matt had purchased the year before. While the Jersey cows are
docile, the bulls are often ornery and unpredictable. Charlie had always
been a problem since his first day on the farm, when he busted through
the back wall of the barn. The top of his large overgrown head stood over
six feet off the ground, his horns had a span of almost four feet tip to
tip. The massive creature's color and breeding abilities are what attracted
Matty; Charlie was a deep, rich, reddish brown. His markings on his face
were of tan, and striped down from the hollow between the horns to his
large pink snout. `Picture perfect,' Matty had thought when he made the
deal to buy the bull.

Matty decided he'd go into the waiting room,
he needed to talk to Randy's mother. She wouldn't go into the room, she
feared seeing her young son with tubes and wires, she had said. He knew
Jim was home worrying, he had to leave Jim back at the barn to tend the
ladies. `I'll call home as soon as I put Mary at ease,' he reasoned with
himself as he slowly pushed the swinging door to the sterile room open.

Jim and Carol were back in the barn, silently
milking the cows. Jim was preoccupied with feeling responsible for what
had happened. `If only I hadn't teased him about Monica. I'll never forgive
myself if something happens to Randy.' The guilt-ridden thoughts flooded
through his mind, he couldn't stop them. `I wonder if God is punishing
me for what I did with Steve?' was another call he kept hearing that continued
the assault on him. He wished that Steve had come out to help in the barn,
but he said he was too tired and needed more sleep.

The only sounds heard while Jim and his aunt
diligently attended the milking chores were the occasional moos, and the
constant dull clanking followed by the wheezing sounds the milk machine
produced. Every now and then the ringing of the chains worn by the milkers
hitting on the metal bars they were attached to could also be detected.

Carol was still half-asleep as she washed the
teats, and fed the animals. She worried about Randy, and her husband. She
knew the business, and feared the additional costs from insurance could
only further the losses they would suffer this year, due to the large payment
due on the milking machine. Carol wouldn't verbalize these thoughts with
Matty; she'd keep them to herself when she did the books. She knew how
serious a significant rise in costs could be, crippling to the farm this
year, more than Matt did. `I can't tell him, and besides I don't know yet
how bad the increase will be. He has too much to worry about with being
the newly elected President of the Farm Bureau,' she told herself.

Jim walked down the main aisle of the barn,
hooking each cow to the machine, one after the other. His mind flurried
with the thoughts of guilt and the pictures of the accident. He saw the
blood pooling around his young friend's body in the darkened sky. Snapshots
of Randy's face as he lay in the wet, overgrown grass motionless, flicked
through his mind like slides on a screen. `As soon as I'm done, I'm going
to the hospital, I'll bring Steve with me.' He finally smiled as he thought
about it, remembering his new car and power of freedom.

"Morning, where's Matt?"

The baritone voice with the French Canadian
accent cut into both Jim and Carol's deep thoughts. It was Matt's father;
he had come to spread the manure. Startled not to find his son, because
he knew that something terribly wrong was the only thing that would keep
Matt from his job. He looked to Carol for an explanation, while his heart
quickened its beat.

"There's been an accident. Charlie stampeded
poor little Randy, he's at the hospital."

Jim still said nothing. He saw the flashing
red and white lights in his head, the ones from the shiny red ambulance
with gold lettering on its side that had taken Randy. He remembered the
two men in the bright white clothing, but couldn't have described their
looks if asked. The two men put his friend onto the stretcher and took
him away, slamming the rear door to the vehicle as Jim cried out Randy's
name.

"Is the boy all right?" Mr. LaPointe asked
Carol.

"He was unconscious when they took him, looked
like he lost a lot of blood. Matt wanted me to ask you to bring Charlie
into the barn. He had let him out last evening, number thirty seven was
showing, he fell asleep in the chair again last night and forgot to bring
Charlie in," Carol explained, feeling the need to defend her husband at
the same time.

"Damn Jerseys, I told him that when he wanted
to buy it."

"You should probably go now and bring him in,
before you do the spreading. Jim has a city boy over and I wouldn't want
another accident."

"Yeah, I'll go do that now, and then come back
and help finish up with the milking."

Carol watched as her father-in-law worked the
hitch from the spreader off the tractor. She feared he'd be rough with
Charlie, Matt really didn't like his father around the animals; he was
too abusive with them. Her mind, like Jim's, began seeing snapshots. Only
the sights she pictured were of Mr. LaPointe beating various cows with
pitchforks and broom handles, anything handy was a weapon when he became
angered. She imagined him trying to run the large bull down with the large
tractor, but was helpless to do anything herself. She heard the motor of
the old red tractor roar as it sped away from the barn.

Finally, after almost three hours late, the
milking was done. Jim was free and his only thoughts remained on Randy.
He stripped his barn boots off in the milking house, and left Carol to
tend the machine as he ran towards the back door to the farmhouse. He never
said a word.

He quickly took a shower and went into his
bedroom. Steve was still sleeping on his bed; he looked down at his new
friend and shook him gently. He saw the sunlight peeking through his bedroom
window, casting its morning hues across Steve's naked torso. The sheets
were wrapped tightly around his friend's waist, his muscular arms at his
side.

"Steve, Steve. Wake up, we got to go."

He shook Steve some more. Steve began to stir
in the bed; his dark eyes opened and drank in the sight of Jim sitting
next to him. He drew his right hand to his eyes and rubbed the sleep away.
He stretched his sheet half-clad body, and yawned. His head was still groggy
from the lack of sleep he normally got. Yet, he managed a smile, and flashed
it at Jim.

"Morning. What's the rush? Let's play, we have
the room to ourselves," Steve tried to convince Jim.

"No, not now, come on, we have to go to the
hospital and see how Randy's doing."

Steve threw the white cotton sheets off the
lower half of his body, exposing his naked body and raging hard on for
Jim to see. He reached his right hand down to his cock and pushed it downward
to show it off. His eyes took on a puppy dog look, as he tried to convince
Jim otherwise. With his left hand he began to rub Jim's cock through the
tight white jockey underwear he was wearing.

Jim felt his own dick begin to swell as it
became aroused at the probing hand. He closed his eyes and surrendered
himself to his desire to be loved and touched. He lay down on the bed,
next to his horny naked friend, and hugged him tightly while he kept his
eyes shut. His whole body was on fire as he pulled at the elastic waistband
of his Fruit of the Looms down so his own cock would be free. He felt Steve's
hot cock brush against his; the sensations were too much for him to stop.

"Yeah, that's it, you love it and you know
it," Steve's voice whispered in Jim's head.

Jim put his hand around the back of Steve's
head and pulled it towards his own, he kissed at Steve wantonly. He nibbled
on Steve's lips and pushed his tongue into Steve's moth. He kept his eyes
firmly closed as he basked in the feelings of being wanted. He rubbed his
hard dick against Steve's and felt the excitement grow in his loins.

Steve reached his hand down between the two
of them, and wrapped it around the two dicks, holding them together tightly
while they pumped against each other. He wanted to feel Jim's mouth sucking
on him. He shoved Jim's head away from his mouth, and pushed it down towards
his rock hard cock. His dick was already soaked in pre-cum; he could feel
it in his hand as he held onto the cocks.

Jim willingly positioned himself with Steve's
cock at his face. He could smell a pungent odor from the sex the two had
had twice earlier. It was a sharp, bitter aroma, which clung to his nostrils,
but it didn't stop him from diving onto the smelly cock and taking it into
his mouth. He was delirious with lust, and overcome with a desire to be
loved. He bathed the hot dick in his mouth, as he stroked it with his hand.

Steve continued his verbalizations as he just
watched Jim sucking on his dick. He pumped his hips, thrusting the hard
dick into Jim's mouth, and used his hands to push Jim's head up and down
the blood filled shaft. He did nothing to pleasure Jim; he just pleasured
himself with Jim.

"Yeah, suck it. Suck my hard cock. Yeah, that's
it, nice and slow, all the way down," Steve said as he pushed Jim's head
all the way onto his cock.

Steve began to feel his orgasm building in
his balls. He could feel the hot juice as it pumped into Jim's mouth. He
shoved his cock all the way into Jim's mouth, holding his head firmly in
his hands so there was no escape. He envisioned his hot white cum shooting
down Jim's throat.

Jim felt his own cock shoot its load on the
bed below him. He hadn't even touched it, but the excitement was too much
and he busted his nut, busted without touching his dick. He had craved
Steve's hand on it, or his mouth, but it didn't happen. After he came,
he felt dirty and cheap.

He slowly withdrew from Steve's cock that had
been impaled into his throat. He felt the thick cum, it lingered on the
walls of his throat, and he began to gag. Jim took in a deep breath to
relax, and it worked. He slowly got up off the bed, guilt began to set
in again. He slowly dressed, not saying a word to Steve.

"Man, you are one hell of a cocksucker," Steve
said, as he rubbed his softening, sticky cock, and slowly got out of the
bed.

Steve looked on the floor for his underwear.
He found them under the bed. He slowly pulled them up his legs. `Man, this
guy is a fucking fag, just like those boys in juvy, if I didn't need him
for his ride...' he thought to himself as he grabbed his clean clothes
off the chair. Clothes in hand, he began to head for the bathroom to take
a shower. When he reached the bedroom door he turned and looked at Jim.

"Hey, you still got pot? I'll roll a joint
so we can smoke it before we go see Randy."

He didn't wait for a response, he closed the
door quietly behind him as he walked into the kitchen. His clothes still
were in his hand; wearing only his white jockey shorts he strutted into
the bathroom.

Jim stared at the door for several minutes
in silence, tears streaming down his face, he finally stumbled to his bed
and cried his eyes out.